← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
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To get started, visit ABCmouse.com SleepTitesTories that's ABCmouse.com SleepTitiesTories or follow the link in our show notes. Thank you. Hello friends and welcome to sleept Stories. It is spring and Libby is excited about her weekend. She has plans to spend some time reading, listening to music and hanging out with her friends. Libby has made something in art class for Margarita, but when she shows her what it is, Margarita doesn't like it as much as Libby does. Margarita isn't a bunny or a flower. Libby walked home from school a little more slowly than usual. The weather was warmer the the sun was shining, and most importantly, she didn't have any math homework. Even better, she had a finished painting to show her mom and of course, Margarita. It was finally spring and while the weather here wasn't quite as nice as it had been where she used to live, it still felt so much better than the free freezing months of winter when she thought she might turn into an icicle before reaching the front door. When she got to her house, Libby rang the doorbell. Not for any particular reason really, other than to announce to the world and Margarita that she was home. It was time for their usual after school chat and maybe some pizza snacks. But today Libby had something else to share. Margarita, I'm home. Silly cat, she called as she stepped through the door. It's nice outside. You should go for a walk, except you can't, so I don't know why I mentioned it. She kicked off her sneakers, the skateboarding kind, which she liked a lot because they had specks of paint all over them. Libby didn't actually have a skateboard, though her mom had banned them after she saw Libby wipe out once and get a little scraped up. Nothing serious, but it had clearly freaked her mother out. As Libby pulled off her shoes, Margarita came trotting in from her usual napping spot on the couch. She paused by the sneakers, sniffed, and sneezed with a dramatic little face. Hey, are you making that face at my sneakers? Libby laughed. They're not that stinky. Okay, maybe they are. Libby sat down on the floor and Margarita curled up beside her, ready for her after school pets. I guess it's time to let mom replace these sneakers, libby said, rubbing behind Margarita's ears. They're kind of falling apart, but that's part of their charm. She paused. Did I ever tell you about my first time trying to ride a skateboard? It wasn't here. It was back at our old house before I met you. I was doing okay until I tried this trick and then boom. Flying through the air. I wasn't even that hurt. But mom said no more skateboards after that. Margarita didn't reply. She was too busy soaking up the affection. Do you see my latest canvas over there? It's spring flowers. It's that time of year when everything starts blooming again. And also the time for chocolate Easter bunnies, though you can't eat chocolate. And honestly, it's not as fun for me as it used to be. I still like chocolate, though not as much as pizza, but still. Meh, said Margarita, which Libby took to mean the massage part of their visit was nearly over and it was time for a sn. I like spring, libby continued. And I think I'll hang out with my friends this weekend. I hope you don't mind because I don't think you can come with me. They have a dog and maybe you wouldn't get along. Margarita narrowed her eyes in that slow, suspicious way. But the real reason I'm in such a good mood is no math homework, libby said, flopping backward on the rug. Isn't that the best? A whole weekend with no math. I mean, math is okay. It's predictable. But my teacher gives way too much homework and he's kinda strict, so this feels like a small miracle. She sat back up and grinned. So this weekend, music, books, a little painting, and you, of course. Oh, and I have a surprise to show you later. Margarita gave her a look, the kind that said a pizza surprise. Libby giggled. Let's go have some pizza snacks. But not too many because it's Friday night. And that means Mom's bringing home pizza from our favorite place. Maybe even our favorite kind. She smiled. My friends still think it's hilarious we named you after pizza, but I think it's super cool. You're one of a kind, Margarita. Anyway, let's get some snacks. Libby and Margarita headed into the kitchen where Libby pulled out a small plate of homemade pizza snacks from the freezer. These were much better than the ones that came in a box. Margarita had made her opinion on that very clear. While the microwave hummed, Libby changed Margarita's water and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. I've decided at the last minute not to join you with pizza snacks, Libby said, slicing her apple. We're getting pizza later and you deserve the last of the good ones. It's called being generous, you know. Margarita replied with a familiar meh and waited patiently by her bowl as Margarita munched. Libby leaned on the counter and talked. Okay, so the surprise I have for you is going to be super fun. And I have to take pictures. I don't have a good camera on my phone because it's super ancient, like practically an antique. But my friends and art teacher want some pictures so it will have to do. I think mom said she might get me a new camera but not a new phone. But only if I don't wear my headphones at the dinner table. Can you believe that? Headphones are life, Margarita. Parents and their rules. Once Margarita had finished and licked her mouth with dramatic flair, she waddled into the living room and leapt up onto the couch like a loaf shaped gymnast. Okay, Margarita, don't move A whisker. Libby said, grinning as she quickly tiptoed toward her room. I'll be right back with something super fun. Libby returned, holding something behind her back. Margarita stretched luxuriously on the couch, one paw over her eyes as if to say, I hope this doesn't involve salad. I made this just for you in art class, Libby announced. And you are going to look amazing. She pulled out a soft costume, a pair of floppy bunny ears attached to a stretchy headband, and a second piece, a crown of pink and yellow flowers. Ta da. Springtime Margarita. Aren't they super awesome? I used special paper for the flowers and the bunny fur took me ages. My patience was challenged like you would not believe. I'm not allowed to wear my headphones in school either, so it's hard to find my zone. Margarita's eyes opened halfway. She didn't move. It's got artistic integrity, Libby continued. And glitter glue. You, my silly cat, are about to become a seasonal icon. Well, at least I think my friends will think you are cute. Margarita gave her a look. Libby wasn't sure if it meant no or or absolutely not in this lifetime. Sometimes it was hard to read what she meant with a look, but it certainly wasn't positive. Think of the photos, libby said, trying not to laugh as she knelt beside the couch. Everyone will love it. My art teacher even said that she would want to see it. She reached toward Margarita with the flower crown. The cat flattened her ears. Okay, okay, gently, libby whispered, easing the crown onto Margarita's head. It wasn't a perfect fit, so it slid down over one eye. Margarita sat unimpressed, like she had just been served salad instead of pizza. Libby stood back, tilting her head as she studied the scene. Margarita, now reluctantly wearing the flower costume, looked mildly offended but undeniably cute. Cool, libby whispered. You're giving serious Frida Kahlo in spring mode. Margarita blinked slowly, still unimpressed. All you need now is a strong opinion about surrealism, libby added with a grin. Hold that pose. Just one quick picture. Or two. Or maybe a dozen. I promise. She fumbled with her phone, which took forever to open the camera app. By the time it fully loaded, Margarita had flopped dramatically onto her side, the crown now dangling from one ear like a lopsided bracelet. Come on. Libby groaned. You looked so cool a second ago. Margarita responded by yawning so wide Libby could count her teeth. Fine. I didn't want a perfect photo anyway. I like chaos. Just like that painting you helped me with before. Libby reached for the bunny ears next. Okay, now for part two of the ensemble. Margarita narrowed her eyes in immediate suspicion. I know these don't exactly scream dignity, libby said, holding up the bunny ears like she was unveiling a priceless artifact. But it's spring. Everyone does silly stuff in spring, don't they? Or we could pretend they do. I mean, chocolate bunnies are everywhere and nobody questions that, so why not an orange cat dressed like the Easter bunny? She gently slid the bunny ears over Margarita's head. Just lean into it. Embrace your inner silliness for exactly two seconds. It worked. Margarita sat frozen, wide eyed, the bunny ears perched delicately on her head like she'd just been crowned the queen of all Easter Cats and had no idea what the job involved. Libby gasped. Oh my goodness. You look better than I imagined. You're like a fluffy rabbit and orange cat combo. She reached for her phone with exaggerated slowness, whispering like a nature show narrator approaching a shy woodland creature. Okay, stay right there. Don't Move. This is the shot of the season. Frame it, print it, fridge it. This one's going in the Holiday Card hall of Fame. Click. That's when it happened. With the swift fury of a warrior cat defending her dignity, Margarita whipped her head to the side like she was shaking off an invisible squirrel. The bunny ears flew through the air in a perfect arc, flipped once, and landed squarely in the decorative basket of yarn on the side table, right on top of a half finished scarf Libby's mom had been working on. Whoops. Libby said. Margarita let out a tiny meh, then shot out from the couch like a spring loaded orange blur. She skidded under the coffee table, knocking over a magazine stack and sending a coaster flying. Luckily, the plastic cup that was on it was empty because if it still had grape juice in it, Libby would be in trouble for not picking it up last night. No, don't hide. Libby laughed, diving after her. I was going to take a video too. Margarita crouched beneath the table, hiding her tail twitching, eyes narrowed, ears slightly askew from the trauma of trying on silly costumes. Libby dropped to her knees and peered under. You look amazing in the photos. How about. Margarita blinked slowly. The message was clear. Never again. Libby got down on her elbows. You can't hide forever. I made these for you. Don't you want to wear them all the time? Margarita narrowed her eyes, tucked her legs in, and flattened her ears again. Libby sighed, resting her chin on the carpet. Okay, maybe this was a bit much. You just don't want to be a bunny or a flower. You just want to be you. Margarita blinked slowly like she was finally glad someone got it. I get it, libby said. You're not a costume wearing bunny ear kind of cat. You're the cat who meows for pizza and knocks brushes off my desk. You're not Spring. You're Margarita. From under the table. The cat crept forward cautiously, but with no sign of bunny ear forgiveness, Libby sat cross legged on the floor. I guess I just wanted to share something I was proud of with you. But maybe dressing you up isn't the best way to show it. Margarita padded into her lap and curled up. Without a word. Libby gave her a gentle stroke. No bunny ears, no flower crowns. Just pets. Deal. Margarita let out a soft meh and flopped completely against Libby's legs, clearly satisfied that her point had been made. Libby smiled and gave her a scratch behind the ears. Besides, you're already perfect just the way you are. Just then, the front door opened and Libby's mother walked in holding a large pizza box. What's going on here? She asked, taking in the overturned bunny ears and Margarita cuddled up beside Libby's leg. Is Margarita still soaking up attention? She must have had a rough afternoon if she needs this many snuggles. Nope, libby said, grinning. She's just demanding an apology for my attempt to make her look festive for spring. Turns out she's not a big fan of bunny ears or flower crowns. I can't imagine why, her mom said, raising an eyebrow as she peeked at the slightly squished headband on the floor. But I have a feeling some fresh pizza might turn her mood around. Libby leaned down and whispered toward the couch. Did you hear that? It's pizza night again. Do you forgive me for the whole spring fashion experiment? Margarita got up, gave an exaggerated stretch, and let out a dignified meh before trotting off toward the kitchen like nothing had ever happened. Libby laughed and followed. Next time I'll just paint you, libby whispered. No bunny ears. Promise. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep. T sa.